John heads to the gym
by OpticalWonders
Summary: Sherlock is displeased that John has started spending so much time at the gym rather than spending it with him, but when the detective goes to the gym to find John when they're called on a case and catch the doctor in the middle of his workout, he's suddenly not that displeased anymore.


"Sherlock, I'm heading to the gym. I'll be back in a couple of hours." John called through the apartment of 221B as he tossed a towel and a pair of sneakers into his old military duffel bag.

"Again? That's the fifth time in this week alone John! You do realise that there're far more productive ways for you to spend your time, than you wasting it in a germ infested building with a bunch of sweating and empty minded gorillas." Sherlock protested as he marched through the living room before stopping in front of the doctor. He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe and crossed his arms in a manner that was sure to show John his displeasure.

John chuckled.

"Nice try love, but I'm still not going to help dissect a human brain in our kitchen. Which by the way, I'm still very much against you doing!" He added pointedly.

Sherlock huffed in annoyance.

"Do as you want, but for once your otherwise limited knowledge would be useful to me!"

Sherlock pouted slightly and refused to look his lover in the eyes. This was getting ridiculous! These past three months John had started spending more and more time at the gym. He went there after work, between cases even in the weekends.

He wasn't going to admit it of course, but Sherlock was starting to feel a bit neglected. They hadn't even had sex in two weeks for god's sake! John always fell asleep the minute his head hit the pillow after a day of work and his customary two hours workout and Sherlock normally crashed whenever a case ended, due to his 'no-sleep-and-food' politics during those. Today was Saturday and for once John didn't have work and there were no cases to occupy Sherlock's mind so he'd hoped John and he could've spent some much needed quality time together. Hell, the brain dissection had only been an excuse to get John to stay home and hopefully things would've evolved into a day well spent in bed.

Okay that might not be the most romantic way to go about things, but this was Sherlock after all.

John finished packing his bag and reached up to plant a soft kiss on Sherlock's cheek.

"I'm sure your own brilliant mind will figure it out. Two hours Sherlock and I'll be back I promise."

"Sure, I don't care either way." Sherlock huffed and immediately went to get his violin, refusing to acknowledge John any further.

John stood back a little baffled as to what suddenly turned on Sherlock's black mood, but shrugged it off. Even after all this time together with that brilliant man he still couldn't figure out that mind of his. Hopefully his lover would be in better spirit when he returned from his workout.

Half an hour passed which Sherlock spent in front of the window, torturing his violin in an attempt to vent his frustrations. The brain in the fridge forgotten, there was no fun in dissecting a brain without John around, who'd spend the first ten minutes complaining about Sherlock's need to carry out gory experiments in the kitchen where they prepare their food. Still, whenever it happened it usually ended with the doctor coming around and not being able to stop himself from grapping a scalpel to show Sherlock the correct dissecting methods. Sherlock couldn't keep a small smile off this face as he thought back to a couple of those moments. This was just one of the many reasons John Watson was the perfect partner for Sherlock in every sense of the word. He couldn't imagine anyone else ever putting up with his constant curiosity, need to learn new things and mood swings.

But lately John had gotten so obsessed with his workouts that these moments had gotten too far between and Sherlock was losing his patience. Before the detective could fume further on the subject his phone chimed with an incoming text. Sherlock fished up the device from his breast pocket in his blazer. It was from Lestrade;

" _Double homicide, two doctors dead at London Bridge private hospital. No witnesses or cues on surveillance. Need your assistance – GL"_

Sherlock quickly replied with a _"On my way, keep Anderson out of the crime scene. 20 minutes – SH"_ and placed his phone back in his pocket before practically diving for his coat and scarf. He was grateful for an opportunity to go on a case and at least make John spend the rest of the day with him instead of the goons at the gym. He _needed_ John for his case, his insight as a doctor could turn out to be indispensable after all.

Sherlock made his way to the gym he knew John frequented since it was so close to the flat, only 5 minutes' walk away.

Sherlock entered through the buildings automatic doors and was immediately making a face of displeasure as he was hit head on with a dense heat, carrying the scents of sweat and the disinfectant used to clean the machines, which always accompanied a gym. Just one more reason Sherlock usually tried to avoid these establishments. How John could stand to breath in his humid and foul air for long periods of time was beyond him.

Speaking of John he had to locate his doctor as quickly as possible so they could be on their way as soon as possible.

The reception, where he'd entered was located as a top floor in the gym. A walkway was going all the way around the room, with several stairs leading down to the actual fitness facilities. This gave Sherlock the great advantage that he actually had a complete overview of the area and should be able to localise John fairly easily form above.

Sherlock walked out on the walkway and leaned against the railing. It wasn't long before the detective's observant kaleidoscope eyes were able to find the familiar silhouette of the doctor.

Sherlock, however couldn't help his eyes form widening, his mouth drying out and his heartrate elevate slightly at the sight before him. He'd spotted John, who was currently lying down, apparently in the middle of a set of bench-pressing what looked to be a fairly impressive amount of weight. John was wearing a deep green tank top he'd kept from his military days. The fabric was clinging tightly to the blonde's torso, the front a bit damp from sweat and showing off an array of hard sculpted muscles underneath. John's face was one of deep concentration as he lowered the heavy bar down just to the point where it made contact with his broad chest, before raising it again with a controlled exhale of air. Even from a distance Sherlock's eyes could make out a small drop of sweat sliding down the doctor's temple, onwards down the tan neck and rest in the hollow at the collarbone. Sherlock swallowed, not able to tear his eyes away from the display. He hadn't even noticed how much John's physic had changed in just the few months he'd kept to his strict training regime. John's soft, wholly jumpers and the loose, oversized T-shirts he wears to bed had hidden the man's sculpted body from Sherlock's view and since they hadn't been intimate or very close for such a long time Sherlock simply hadn't noticed. The detective had been too caught up in his own world and mood swings to pay John's looks much attention. Something he regretted a great deal right now..

Sherlock would of course never be so shallow, as to allow simple psychical appearance to change his overall opinion of John. He'd loved the man just as fiercely with his soft belly and the no doubt reduced muscles mass from his army days, but he would be lying to himself if he didn't say he greatly enjoyed the way John's biceps bulged with strength whenever the bar was raised or how he could trace the doctor's abdominal muscles through the green top with his eyes alone.

John's face contorted further, clearly with the increasing effort it took to complete the last repetitions of the set. It hadn't escaped Sherlock's notice how impressively many repetitions John had been able to do with that much weight on the bar.

John finished the set with a final groan of power and placed the bar back on the hinges above his head. He sat up, grabbed his towel to dry off the sweat around his brow and neck and took a big swipe of his water bottle beside the bench. The doctor could already feel the workout endorphins starting to take over. He couldn't help but feel a bit proud of himself for his progress these past few months as he could tell his intensive workout regime had already payed of in several areas. His stamina had already increased significantly (which would no doubt help him keeping up with Sherlock on their chases across London), but his strength and core training had definitely also paid off substantially. He'd been able to complete more and more repetitions and slowly adding more weight these past months, in all his daily exercises and by now the results were starting to show for real. His arms had gotten bigger and more toned, his chest had gotten more defined, his thighs and calves had become much tighter and hard with muscles and slowly but surely he'd finally been able to regain his six-pack like in army days. John had by no means any plans on starting up a bodybuilder lifestyle, but six months ago he'd looked himself over and not being very pleased with the sight. Of course it was only natural he'd lost a lot of muscle mass since being invalided home from service. He hadn't been able to keep up a normal workout routine with his bad shoulder and limp like he had when he was still in the military. But since Sherlock had cured his limp and his shoulder finally seemed to have improved, with a lot of help from his physiotherapist and daily exercises, John couldn't find any excuse not to get back into shape. Despite all his running around with Sherlock he'd gained quite a few extra pounds from their bad habit of ordering takeout. Unlike Sherlock John couldn't just eat whatever he wanted without it showing. So John had set a goal to work himself into shape like in his military days, a goal he was now close to completing. He figured a few weeks further intensive training and it'd be like he'd never even been shot. Afterwards he'd of course have to keep up a regular training schedule to keep up his current physic, but with a healthy, well balanced diet and with the right programs he'd easily be able keep his visits to the gym two or three times a week tops and hopefully spend a little more time with his boyfriend. John knew he'd might overlooked Sherlock's needs a bit much these past few months and he felt bad for doing so, but this had been something John needed to do for himself. He felt like the old John Watson again, confident with his own self-image and abilities, he'd missed that feeling and it felt great to have it back.

John stood up from the bench with a satisfied smile, about to make his way to the leg-press machine when he spotted a tall figure in a long coat and blue scarf up on the walkway above him, eyes glued to him.

"Sherlock?" John muttered surprised. What in the world was Sherlock doing here? John couldn't imagine this being a place the detective would ever willingly set his foot inside.

John quickly made his way up the nearest stairs and walked over to the brunet, who still eyed him with that intense gaze that Sherlock usually reserved when he wanted to record something into his mind palace.

"Sherlock, what're you doing here? Is everything alright?" John asked when he reached his boyfriend.

"Eh.. Lestrade.. Text.. Case.." Sherlock muttered absentminded, his eyes still busy tracing the defined lines of John's body.

John's eyes furrowed with confusion. Sherlock's usually so articulate and elegant in both his speech and demeanour, that to render him into a muttering mess and apparently only able to speak in short one-words sentences was no less than a near impossible feat.

"Are you sure you're alright love? You look flustered, do you feel sick?" John asked, his doctor mode taking over when he noticed the way his lover's fair skin looked red and heated, maybe he had a fever. That might also explain the odd behaviour.

"No.. No I'm fine.. It's just you.. You look.." Sherlock stammered slightly trying to find the right words for what he was feeling.

"Yeah I know I'm all sweaty, sorry. Let me just take a quick shower in the changing room and we can be on our way." John said, about to turn around to head for the shower, but before he could go Sherlock grabbed his wrist.

"Actually.. I think Lestrade and his team can take care of this case themselves. Maybe we could just head home and.. Take a shower there?" Sherlock said, the flush across his cheeks growing darker and his voice with a clear undertone of hope.

John's eyes widened as he finally understood what was going on and the reason for Sherlock's unusual behaviour. The doctor couldn't help the grin slowly spreading on his face.

"'We' huh? Liking what you see love?" John rumbled in his deep voice, just loud enough for Sherlock to hear.

"Now John!" Sherlock simply stated, his patience wearing thin by now. How was he supposed to keep resisting when John stood there looking like a real-life Adonis?!

"Alright, alright" John laughed. He couldn't say he didn't like Sherlock's reaction to his new transformation. This was definitely a big bonus.

"Let me just get my bag and we're out of here." The doctor added swiftly. He would fit in an extra workout tomorrow to make up for today, but right now he also felt a desperate urge to hurry home with his detective in hand. Thank god the flat was only 5 minutes away, actually 3.. If they ran.

 **Hope you all enjoyed this little fic. I got the idea during my own workout at the gym and just thought that Sherlock would appreciate a physically fit John in his life and honestly… Who doesn't love a BAMF, fit, handsome John Watson?**


End file.
